Only Time Can Tell
by Janet2
Summary: Mark is injured and, as a result, suffers amnesia. He disappears only to return twenty years later.


Title: Only Time Can Tell by Author: Janet Rampley  
  
E-mail: jb.rampley@ntlworld.com  
  
Challenge : # 192 by VikkiLynn  
  
Summary: Suffering an injury induced amnesia Mark disappears only to return twenty years later.  
  
Disclaimer: All the characters from Diagnosis Murder remain the property of their originators. All other characters come from my imagination.  
  
Request : I'd love some feedback on this story. It's a big departure from the type of story that I normally write and I'd like to know if it worked.  
  
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1 Prologue  
  
Turning away from the blackboard where he had been writing, Dr. Mark Sloan surveyed the group of young men and women in front of him. Smiling inwardly he remembered just how he felt as a medical student and wondered if the same sort of things were going through their minds. " Okay, ladies and gentlemen," he began, "To recap. Amnesia. It can be defined as a disturbance in the memory of information stored in long-term memory, in contrast to short-term memory, manifested by a total or partial inability to recall past experiences. Your assignment , should you choose to accept it," a wave of laughter rippled gently around the room, "is to thoroughly research whichever form of amnesia is on the card that you receive and to prepare a presentation for two weeks time."  
  
As the students filed out Mark closed his notebook and watched their retreating backs with a smile. They were a great bunch of kids, he thought, and someday the medical profession will be the richer for their presence. Sweeping everything up in his arms, Mark went back to his office ,placed all his notes down on his desk and looking at his watch decided to call it a day. Ringing Steve to let him know he was on his way, Mark locked his office and walked towards the elevator waving an airy farewell to Jesse on the way past.  
  
*********************************************************  
  
Standing behind one of the large, grey concrete pillars that held up the structure that was Community General he waited. Waited for the man who was like one of those pillars – tough, resilient ,the rock on which the hospital stood. Dr. Mark Sloan. His palms were wet and perspiration ran in rivulets down his back. He was nervous. He had never killed a man in cold blood before. Sure the woman at the gas station was dead but that was her fault, she shouldn't have moved. He'd felt sick afterwards but it had been an accident. This was different. This he had planned. He knew where he was going to hit the doc, how many times and where he'd hide out afterwards. He had to get shot of the doc, he was getting too close. Yesterday, when they'd talked Dr. Sloan had as good as accused him and he couldn't have that. Couldn't go back to prison, not again.  
  
A sound reached his ear, the sound of footsteps walking purposefully along the line of cars in the car park. He slipped a hand into one pocket and closed wet, slippery fingers around the lead pipe he had picked up from the garage that morning. Pulling it out, he transferred it to his right hand and stepped out from behind the pillar just as Dr. Sloan passed where he was hiding.  
  
Mark had had a good day. The classes he had been teaching had gone well. He knew that he shouldn't have favourites and he was certain that he didn't show it, but he had a real soft spot for young Alex. There was something about that boy. He was like the grandson Mark hadn't got. Never likely to have if Steve and Carol kept going on the way they were, he chuckled to himself. His mind was so occupied with these thoughts that he didn't notice the man step out behind him and he barely heard the swish that the iron bar made as it whipped through the air to rain the first of many blows to his head and body.  
  
Jesse was slumped in one of the armchairs that were dotted around the third floor doctors lounge. He had had a really busy day and his brain had closed down, refusing to think beyond the cup of coffee he was cradling in his hands. Into the silence of the room intruded the shrill sound of the phone ringing. Groaning, Jesse reached out one hand and picked up the receiver, as much to still the noise as anything else.  
  
"Dr. Travis." he muttered.  
  
"Jess?" came Steve's voice in his ear, sounding concerned, "Is there some sort of emergency at the hospital? It's just that dad rang me 90 minutes ago to say he was just leaving and he hasn't arrived home yet."  
  
"No Steve, there is no emergency " responded Jesse, sitting upright, " I actually saw him getting onto the elevator. Maybe he's broken down."  
  
"He'd ring me Jess. You know what dad's like," came back Steve and there was uncharacteristic worry in his voice, " I have a really bad feeling. Can you check the hospital and I'll check with traffic to see if they have anything."  
  
"Okay Steve I will. Listen don't worry, I'm sure that there is a perfectly logical reason for this," Jesse tried to be reassuring.  
  
Putting the phone down Jesse made his way to the central security office. Walking in he saw a huge bank of monitors all showing various vulnerable areas around the hospital. On enquiring about Mark, Jesse was told by the officer on duty that he had seen Dr. Sloan exiting the elevator at the car park level, but then his attention had been called to something else and when he looked back Dr. Sloan was no longer in the shot.  
  
"Which are the monitors that cover the car park?" Jesse wanted to know, searching the banks of screens in front of him.  
  
Directed to the top rank Jesse walked closer and squinted in an attempt to see into the murkiness of the car park. Initially unable to see anything Jesse was about to walk away when he saw something illuminated by the headlights of a departing car.  
  
"Can you give me a close-up on this camera?" Jesse asked.  
  
"Sure Dr. Travis," said the officer, flicking a switch on the control panel in front of him and the image on the screen that Jesse had indicated grew larger. Keeping his gaze firmly on the monitor Jesse exclaimed, " That's a foot!" he rushed for the door calling back over his shoulder, " Get an emergency team to the car park at once. I'm heading on down there."  
  
Never had an elevator moved so slowly, or so Jesse felt that day. He was through the doors at a run, even before they were fully opened. He came to a screeching halt just in front of the pillar that he had seen on the monitor upstairs. Taking a deep breath he stepped forward and what he saw there shocked him into immobility. It was Mark, beaten and bloody, but it was Mark. His instincts taking over, Jesse knelt next to his friend and gingerly felt for a pulse. He breathed a sigh of relief when his fingers rested on a faint but steady beat. Whilst waiting for the emergency team to arrive, Jesse took the time to carefully check Mark over. He had been badly beaten about the head and upper torso. A thought suddenly struck him and taking out his cell phone Jesse shakily punched in the numbers that would connect him with Steve at the beach house.  
  
"Jesse?" Steve's voice came through immediately.  
  
"Yeah, you'd better get over here Steve. Your dad's been attacked."  
  
"How bad?" Steve's voice was a little wobbly.  
  
"Pretty bad, but he's alive. We're taking him up to the ER in a minute," but by this time Jesse was talking to thin air as Steve had already left the house.  
  
Many thoughts crowded through Steve's head as he drove to the hospital that day. Foremost amongst them was the fact that this must be how his dad felt every time he got a call about Steve. Turning into the car park Steve brought his car to a halt in the only available space. It wasn't until he had got out that he realised he was standing next to his dad's car. Involuntarily he reached a hand out gently touching the roof of the car and tears came unbidden to his eyes. He knew that Jesse had said Mark was alive, but something inside him was saying that nothing would be the same again.  
  
Leaving Mark's car behind, Steve made his way to the elevator and, like Jesse before him, impatiently rode it until the doors finally opened and he stepped out into the ER. Before he had taken two steps he was pounced on by Alex and dragged off to the doctors lounge. Closing the door behind them and standing protectively in front of it Alex said, before Steve could even open his mouth, "He's still in Trauma 1 with Jesse and Amanda. Sit down and I'll pour you a cup of coffee."  
  
It was one hour and four cups of coffee later that the door opened and a tired looking Jesse came in. In a second Steve was up and across the room demanding, "Well?"  
  
Rubbing a hand across his face Jesse said, " He's okay. It was a pretty brutal beating, but your dad is a tough old bird. He has a fractured skull, nose and cheekbones. His upper body took quite a pounding as well, his ribs are severely bruised and his chest is going to be like an artists palette in a couple of days."  
  
"Are there any signs of brain damage?" Steve voiced his major concern.  
  
"We'll have the results of the CAT scan soon Steve," Amanda said, walking into the room a few seconds behind Jesse, "But the good sign is that Mark is beginning to respond to outside stimuli."  
  
"We're admitting him and he'll be on his way to ICU in a few minutes," said Jesse, holding his arm out to foil Steve's attempt to push past him, "You can see him when he's settled."  
  
When he eventually entered Mark's room , despite Jesse's warning about what he would encounter, Steve was shocked. Again he felt that he was gaining a brief glimpse into the depths of worry that his father had plumbed over the years by his bedside. Pulling a chair up to Marks bedside he sat down. Looking at his father lying there, so still and suddenly looking so old, Steve could not believe that he would pull through. Sliding a hand under one of Marks , Steve sat staring at his fathers face and he did two things that he had not done in a long long time. He cried and he prayed. He cried , silently with tears running down his face leaving salty streaks in their wake. He prayed that his father would, somehow, come through this ordeal whole and they would have many more years together. Somewhere in the midst of the tears and the prayers, Steve rested his head on the bed and he slept. Sometime during the night both Jesse and Amanda checked in on the sleeping pair and Amanda covered Steve with a spare blanket.  
  
For the next week Steve hardly strayed from his dads bedside. Jesse had been right about the bruising, Marks torso was a positive riot of colour – blue, green, yellow and black. The CAT scan had, fortunately, revealed no haemorrhaging and no sign of brain damage or as Jesse put it , "The Sloan men are too thick skulled to get brain damage!" Even the fractures were slowly knitting themselves together helped by time and Mother Nature. The only thing that causing concern was that Mark had not regained consciousness.  
  
"Steve," Jesse's voice had taken on the tone of 'doctor knows best' when, for the umpteenth time he had been cross questioned about Marks continuing unconsciousness, " The body has it's own ways of healing itself and different people heal in different ways at different rates. Mark has gone through a physical and psychological trauma that would knock a bull elephant sideways. I think, no I am sure, that this is simply his body's way of helping the healing process along. All his vitals are stable, so we just need to be patient and wait."  
  
The sun was spreading its tendrils across the floor of the third floor hospital room where two men were sleeping. One was in a bed, the covers pushed back to reveal a chest covered in bruises but now devoid of all the wires and paraphernalia that had so recently adorned him and the other, a younger version of the first, was asleep in the chair next to the bed. The tendrils of light draped themselves across the face of the man in the bed and for the first time in ten days he showed a reaction, turning his head away from the light. A pain shot through his entire upper body and he groaned. The sound awoke the sleeping man next to him who leapt out of his chair saying, "Dad?"  
  
Mark opened his eyes and tried to focus on the face that was looking down at him. His head swam from the effort ,he quickly closed his eyes and for the first time since his attack he slept. Steve, meanwhile, had flown out of the room colliding with Jesse who was reaching out his hand to open the door. Grabbing hold of Jesse by the shoulders and thrusting him into the room Steve said, "He woke up! He looked at me! He's gone back to sleep. I think he's gonna be okay!"  
  
"Steve, calm down. Let me take a look at Mark."  
  
Moving past Steve who was almost incoherent with joy, Jesse examined his patient. Standing back a few minutes later he turned around with a beaming grin on his face, "You were right Steve. Mark is now asleep rather than unconscious , so you can leave this room for more than a few minutes at a time. In fact, you can go home take a shower, sleep in a bed for once and come back later," so saying Jesse shooed his best friend out of the room and into the nearest elevator.  
  
Steve slept in his own bed for the first time in nearly two weeks. He knew that his dad was on the mend and a flicker of hope began to make its presence felt inside him. Rising the next morning, feeling refreshed Steve showered and dressed before making his way to the hospital. Walking along the corridor to Marks room he was brought up short on hearing Jesse call out his name. Turning, he saw his diminutive friend moving towards him with a concerned expression on his face.  
  
"What's up Jess? Is it dad?"  
  
"Yeah," replied Jesse, holding a hand up to forestall Steve from bombarding him with questions, "He hasn't had a relapse but there is something you need to know." So saying Jesse steered his friend into a nearby empty room.  
  
Barely waiting for the door to shut Steve rounded on Jesse saying, "Okay Jess, what's going on? What do I need to know?"  
  
"Your dad has woken up but……" Jesse struggled with what he had to say.  
  
"Come on Jess, give."  
  
"He's awake Steve but he has total amnesia. He doesn't know who he is, where he is or even what the year is."  
  
"I want to see him," demanded Steve, making for the door.  
  
"No," Jesse was firm, placing his body in between Steve and the door, " It's not a good idea at the moment. It's been a very disorienting experience for your dad and he's very distressed."  
  
"How long is it liable to last?" Steve wanted to know.  
  
"It's hard to predict Steve. His memory could come back tomorrow, next week or," Jesse hesitated, not wanting to put his fears into words, "it may never return. Some people never regain their past lives they have to build whole new ones."  
  
"But that won't happen with dad. Right?" Steve was looking for some reassurance that Jesse was unable to give.  
  
"I don't know Steve. I wish I did. Not even your dad could give you a definitive answer to this one."  
  
For the next few days the only glimpses Steve was allowed of his dad was when he was asleep. Jesse wanted Mark to calm down and come to terms with his memory loss and he felt that to introduce another face could prove too traumatic. Jesse also suggested to Steve that he ought to get back to work, to give him something else to think about. Steve had reluctantly agreed and , however much it went against the grain to agree with Jesse, it had actually helped him.  
  
Late one afternoon he and Cheryl were conducting a background check on a recently discovered murder victim when Steve's cell phone rang. Pulling it from where it nestled against his hip, Steve put it to his ear saying, "Sloan here."  
  
Cheryl, who had moved away to look at something, was surprised into turning around by the sound of the phone clattering to the floor. As she turned she saw Steve swaying on the spot his face the hue of a sheet of translucent paper. Rushing over to him, Cheryl guided him to a chair. Picking up the phone she said, "Who's talking please?"  
  
"Cheryl, its Jesse."  
  
"Jesse, has something happened to Mark?"  
  
"He's gone Cheryl."  
  
"Dead?" Cheryl was aghast.  
  
"No. But that's the only good piece of news. He's disappeared. We'd brought him some clothes in the other day, so that he wouldn't feel so much like a patient and when one of the nurses went in to do his ob's he had gone."  
  
"You mean he just walked out of the hospital and no-one stopped him?" demanded Cheryl.  
  
"I wish I could say that you are wrong Cheryl," Jesse voice was flat, totally devoid of any emotion, "but that is exactly what happened."  
  
"We're on our way," she paused and looked across at her shaken partner, "Steve may need something Jesse, I think he's in shock."  
  
Standing Steve up, Cheryl led him to the car, strapped him in and drove to the hospital. Steve didn't utter a word on the short journey. He just sat passively in the passenger seat staring out into space. It was only as the pair were in the elevator that a light seemed to switch back on in his brain and he looked around him, "Why are we here?"  
  
Looking across at her partner and thinking, very inappropriately in her opinion, that Steve looked even cuter than normal when he was distressed. "You had a phone call from Jesse about your dad."  
  
Steve paled, "I remember. He's missing isn't he?"  
  
Before Cheryl could answer the elevator doors opened and they stepped out. Unluckily for Jesse his was the first face that Steve saw. Before Cheryl could stop him, Steve had closed the gap between himself and Jesse. Grabbing him by the lapels of his lab jacket he almost lifted him off the floor and pushed him up against the nurses station yelling, "How the hell did you let this happen? You were supposed to be looking after him Jess. If anything has happened to my dad I will never forgive you."  
  
It took the combined efforts of Cheryl pulling and Jesse pushing to detach Steve's hands from Jesses lab coat. Jesse was shocked and shaking, but he helped Cheryl to manhandle Steve into an empty room.  
  
"Leave us alone for a while Jess, he just needs to calm down," said Cheryl, looking at Jesse's ashen features before carrying on, "you know he didn't mean it."  
  
Nodding Jesse left the room. No-one, not even Steve, could blame him for Mark's disappearance more than he was blaming himself. Jesse, however, being Jesse decided that wallowing wasn't going to bring Mark back, action was. So he walked off, a little shakily, in the direction of the security office to see if they had come up with anything. Entering the office he was informed that they had traced Marks passage through the hospital to the ground floor shop and then nothing. After asking them to put all the images they had onto one tape Jesse made his way back to where he had left Cheryl and Steve. He hesitated outside the door with his hand on the door handle. He wasn't sure if he could cope if Steve was still mad at him. Taking a deep breath, he turned the handle and entered the room.  
  
Cheryl had made good use of the time that she and Steve had been alone. Even taking the state of Steve's mind into consideration she wasn't prepared to let him get away with how he had treated Jesse and had told him so. Hanging his head in his hands Steve had muttered, "I know, it's just that when I saw Jesse I lost it." It was at this point that the object of the conversation entered the room.  
  
Steve stood up, walked across to Jesse and said, "I'm sorry Jess, I didn't mean it," and in an uncharacteristic display of emotion he wrapped his arms around Jesse and pulled him into a huge bear hug. For a split second Jesse was unsure how to react and then he returned Steve's embrace. For a few seconds they stood locked together, gaining some measure of strength from one another, until a muted sniff from Cheryl brought them back to the present. In an action which was almost telepathic in its timing , reached out and pulled Cheryl into the embrace. Pulling herself out from underneath their arms a few seconds later Cheryl said, "Very funny guys. I take it that normal service has been resumed?"  
  
"I think so," said Steve, ruffling Jesses hair, knowing how much Jesse hated that.  
  
Not wanting to ruin the new found peace between himself and Steve, but knowing that he needed to pass on the information Jesse said, "I've been to security and they are putting a tape together of your dad leaving his room until he entered the shop on the ground floor. They are still looking to see if he was caught on any of the outside cameras. I've told them to bring everything to me."  
  
"That's good Jess, thanks," said Steve, "but what we also need to do is to alert all the black and whites to be on the look-out for him."  
  
"I'll do that back at the precinct Steve," said Cheryl, "maybe I can mobilise some of the detectives to keep an eye out as well. I'm sure they will, your dad is very well liked down there you know."  
  
"I know, thanks Cheryl," Steve paused, "I'll go back to house to see if he's been there. I know it's a long shot , but I've got to do something."  
  
In the weeks that followed Steve's need to 'do something' manifested itself in an almost manic, off-duty, schedule of criss-crossing the city in an attempt to gain some information on his father. He just could not believe that someone as well known as Mark could simply vanish off of the face of the earth. A number of newspaper articles had been published, with Marks face taking a prominent front page place. He, Jesse and Amanda had appeared on numerous TV news and current affairs programmes making impassioned pleas for Mark to come back or for anyone who had seen him to come forward. There was nothing. Eventually the physical and mental strain that Steve was under took its toll. He woke one morning and simply could not get out of bed, suffering a total mental and physical breakdown. Luckily Jesse had taken to staying at the house with Steve and was able to get him admitted to a facility used exclusively by the LA Police Department. . It took Steve many months of rest and intensive counselling to come to terms with the fact that his dad was gone and that he may never see him again.  
  
  
  
******************  
  
He opened his eyes and smiled. It was going to be a good day today because he had a party to go to. Mrs. Loren had asked him to go along , do some magic tricks, maybe sing a bit, at her sons birthday party. Sitting up he grimaced a little as his back protested at the sudden movement. Must be getting old he mused. His smile faded a little as he wished he knew exactly how old he was, for he had no memory of his life before he arrived in Arizona just under twenty years ago. He had had nothing but the clothes on his back and if it hadn't been for Betty Julien taking pity on him, they'd have thrown him into jail as a vagrant. Betty had been good to him. She had taken him in, fed him and gave him a job in her hardware store. Five years ago his arthritis has got too much and he now spent his time doing the occasional children's party. Singing a little and doing magic tricks that he somehow knew, but had no idea how. Lately though he had been having some very odd dreams. They were disjointed and he could only remember bits and pieces, like echoes of something long lost. Closing his eyes, he tried to conjure up the images. There was a beautiful house that overlooked the beach and a tall, handsome, suntanned man. A beautiful woman with two children. A younger man who had boundless enthusiasm. All three seemed to be tied together with some sort if invisible, but powerful , force. He opened his eyes and the images faded. He sighed, perhaps he was just getting old. Getting out of bed, he got ready for the day.  
  
There seemed to be a wall of sound coming from the house as he trudged up the path to the front door. He knocked and waited. As the door opened the sound almost blew him back down the path to the sidewalk. Twenty children were looking his way and screaming 'Uncle Richard'. Smiling he stepped through the door and said, " Hello children. Are you ready for some magic?"  
  
"Yeesss!!!!!" screamed the same twenty voices in unison.  
  
"Okay, then you all need to sit down over there," he said, indicating a space across the room that had been cleared especially. As always his calm, deep voice soothed the children and they all obediently obeyed his gentle command.  
  
Having sat the children down he placed his 'bag of tricks', as he liked to call it, on the table next to him and began to take all his bits and pieces out, singing songs to the children as he did so. They were enthralled and their shiny, scrubbed faces were turned upwards following every movement and sound that he made. Halfway through his routine he noticed that one little boy was becoming restless. He managed to ignore it but before long the little boy had moved on from restlessness to naughtiness, pinching and hitting any child within his reach. A voice came from just over his right shoulder, "Mark, Mark! Come here at once!"  
  
Time for him stood still and the veil that had covered his past life fell away as if it had never been. Those dreams he had been having, they were about him, his life! That was his house and ………………his son. One of the children called out in a very dispassionate voice, "Uncle Richard doesn't look very well." As he passed out the name on his lips was "Steve!"  
  
***********************  
  
Coming to, some time later, he knew exactly where he was. He was in a hospital emergency room. The sounds and the smells that had been missing from his life for the past twenty years assailed his senses and he felt like he had come home. Turning his head slightly he saw his good friend, and landlady, Betty sitting next to him. She looked up at the movement and said ,  
  
"Richard, you're awake. How are you feeling?"  
  
"Fine," he said, hesitating a little he carried on earnestly, "Betty, I know who I am, or was, whichever is most correct. My name is Mark Sloan and I am a doctor and I come from California."  
  
"Oh Ric…… Mark, that's wonderful. How did it happen?"  
  
Mark explained what had happened that afternoon. However, when he began to tell her about his life in California he faltered and tears came to his eyes as his voice dropped to a whisper, "Betty, I have a son and a daughter who probably think I'm dead. I must contact them."  
  
"What do you want to do? Phone, write?" Betty asked, hoping that the option she didn't voice would not be the one he chose. It was.  
  
"Mark reached out and grasped her hand, "I must go home Betty. I have to see them."  
  
Squeezing Marks hand in a silent acknowledgement, Betty smiled, "I know."  
  
A few days later found Mark and Betty at the airport, his few belongings packed into a shiny, new black suitcase that she had insisted he had from the store. As the call came over the tannoy for Marks flight he turned to her and said, "Betty I will never be able to repay your kindness to me over the years. If, I don't find what I'm looking for, may I come back?"  
  
"Mark," Betty replied, her eyes bright with unshed tears, "You come back even if you do find what you seek."  
  
Leaning forward Mark placed a gently kiss on her cheek and said, "I'll let you know how I get on and I will send you the money for the ticket." Then he turned and walked away.  
  
Betty stood on the observation platform and watched Marks plane take off. She kept both eyes firmly focussed on it until it was a tiny black dot in the distance. When she could see it no longer Betty turned away and two large tears rolled down her face.  
  
Strapping himself into his seat, Marks thoughts were a jumble. He was excited and yet frightened at the same time. Excited at the prospect of going home, but he was frightened at what he might find. Would Steve be okay, or would there have been one bullet, one beating that he hadn't recovered from. Mark hung his head, he couldn't bear the thought of losing Steve again, after having just re-found him after all these years. What about Jesse, Amanda and the boys? Alex? How had their lives changed? What were they doing? Most importantly, would they be pleased to see him? Closing his eyes, Mark saw them all again in his minds eye and he hoped that it would not be too long before he saw them for real. Keeping his eyes closed, he relaxed and somewhere along the line he slept not even waking up when the meal trolley was wheeled round.  
  
Landing at LA-X, Mark picked his case from the carousel and made his way outside. The heat and the glare struck him simultaneously and his eyes watered. Fumbling in his breast pocket, Mark put his sunglasses on . He stood for a while, unsure of where to go first. The house, the hospital, the precinct? Making a decision he approached a cab and gave the address to his house. Getting in, he leaned back against the seat, taking in the aroma of the leather. On the drive from the airport Mark looked out of the window and soaked up the sights and sounds that had been lost to him for so long.  
  
The cab drew away, leaving a lone figure standing outside the gates of the beach house. Mark was assailed by sudden doubt. What if Steve didn't live here anymore? What if he did, but didn't want to see him. Mark had no idea that, whatever else Steve had done over the years he had never, deep down, given up on seeing his father again. Taking a deep breath Mark walked through the gates and up the steps leading to the front door. Placing his case on the floor Mark raised his arm and knocked on the door. No-one answered. After waiting a while, Mark walked round to the beach and up the familiar, if worn steps to the decking where he and Steve had spent so many hours together. Peering in through the windows Mark was relieved to note that there were many familiar pieces of furniture dotted around the room. Sitting on one of the chairs and looking out over the ocean, Mark tried to decide what to do next. Coming to a decision, he made his way back out to the street and, finding a phone booth, he rang for a cab. Half an hour later Mark was standing outside the precinct house that Steve had been working out of the last time he had seen him. Walking through the front doors he made his way to the from desk , waiting for the officer there finish his phone call before turning his attention to Mark.  
  
"Yes sir, can I help you?" he asked.  
  
"Can you tell me if there is a Steve Sloan working in homicide please?" Mark replied.  
  
"Steve Sloan?," the young man shook his head, "It's not a name I recognise, but then I've only been here a few weeks and I haven't picked up on everyone's name yet."  
  
Despite his nerves Mark grinned, "It's been a little more than a few weeks, more like twenty years."  
  
"Twenty years!" the officer exclaimed with a frown on his face, "Are you yanking my chain, old timer?"  
  
"No son, I'm not, but it is a very long story. Is there anyone in homicide that I can talk to?"  
  
Keeping his eyes firmly on Marks face the young officer reached for the phone and punched in a couple of numbers. He waited for a short time for the phone to be answered and then said, " This is the front desk here. Look, I know it's a long shot, but is there a Steve Sloan working up there? There's an old guy asking for him," listening for a few seconds he continued," tall, silver hair, moustache and very distinguished looking."Again he listened, then looked up at Mark saying, "Someone will be down to see you soon sir. If you'd like to take a seat over there."  
  
Mark occupied the seat indicated and took the time to take in his surroundings. The walls were the same nondescript colour that he remembered but the furnishings looked new and up to date. In his minds eye he retreated twenty years and he could picture all the officers that used to inhabit this building – Captain Newman, Cheryl and so many others. Lost in the past he suddenly became aware of a young man standing in front of him, with a smile on his face that was tantalisingly familiar.  
  
"Dr. Sloan?" he enquired.  
  
"Yes I am. Detective, can you tell me if there is a Steve Sloan working in homicide?"  
  
"No he doesn't work here anymore."  
  
A small icy finger of fear ran itself down Marks spine as he asked, "He's not dead is he?"  
  
The young mans smile broadened, "Not unless he's fallen into a vat of special sauce since this morning. That was the last time I saw him, at breakfast."  
  
Seeing Marks confusion the young man carried on, "You don't recognise me do you Dr. Sloan?"  
  
Shaking his head Mark said, "I'm sorry should I?"  
  
"Well considering all the time I used to spend at the beach house with you and Steve…………" he let the sentence trail off as Marks eyes widened in recognition.  
  
"Dion! Good heavens, how you have grown!" Mark held his hands out to Dion, who took them in his own, "So, you're a homicide detective now. My, my. So how are Amanda and CJ?"  
  
The smile faded slightly from Dions face, but all he said was "Come on Dr. Sloan, we need to get you to Steve."  
  
In his excitement at the thought of seeing his son, Dions lack of answer did not register. Sitting in the car next to Dion, Mark tried to keep calm as they neared a part of town that he remembered all too well. It was where BBQ Bobs was situated. Looking across at his passenger Dion said, "Dr. Sloan, when we get there it might be best if you waited outside while I go in and talk to Steve first. Coming on top of everything else that been happening lately, I think it would be best."  
  
"What else has been going on," Mark wanted to know, "Is Steve okay?"  
  
"Why don't I let Steve tell you," Dion responded.  
  
Arriving outside the restaurant that Mark remembered so clearly, he waited impatiently whilst Dion went inside. Again Marks memories came flooding back. He remembered the time that Jesse and Steve had so brilliantly conned him into lending them the money that allowed them to open Bobs. He could see the three of them now hands together, heads bowed in a Jesse instigated moment of silence. A movement caught his eye and refocusing his vision he saw a tall, distinguished yet still handsome man standing in front of him. It was Steve, in the same spot that Mark had been remembering from all that time ago. For a long moment the two men simply stood looking at each other. Just as Mark was beginning to worry, Steve began to walk and came to a halt just in front of him. Reaching out with trembling fingers Steve gently touched his fathers weather-beaten face. It was as if that physical contact finally allowed Steve to acknowledge what he had been reluctant to admit. He flung his arms around his father and slumped against him whilst huge, loud sobs wracked his body. Mark, too, let go of the tears that had threatened to overwhelm him ever since he had seen Steve outside Bobs. For a long time the two men stood together until finally, neither had any tears left to shed. Not then anyway. There would probably be many more shed in the days ahead.  
  
Keeping his arm firmly around Mark's shoulders, as if he was afraid that Mark would disappear again if he let him go, Steve guided his father into the restaurant. Dion had to get back to the station, but he promised to come to the beach house that night. Sitting Mark down at one of the tables Steve sat opposite him, all the while keeping a firm hold of his fathers hands. Now that the emotion of the initial meeting was over, Mark took the time to really look at his son. At first glance, apart from his mane of silver hair, Steve looked the same. His tall, tanned, muscular frame was exactly as Mark remembered it. It was obvious, that whatever else had gone on, Steve had continued to look after himself. Mark wondered if Steve still surfed and rode his bikes, but those were questions that could wait until later. However, on closer inspection of his sons face, Mark could see the lines that framed his eyes and mouth. It seemed to Mark that those lines were not the result of Mother Natures inexorable march, but of something much deeper. There was also a sadness in Steve's eyes that seemed to have all but extinguished the spark that used to be there, the spark that was always a barometer to how Steve was really feeling.  
  
Taking in his surroundings Mark noticed, for the first time, the subtle changes that Bobs had undergone. No longer did the blue neon sign hang over the counter. In it's place was a beautifully hand-painted sign with a likeness of Steve at one end. At the other end was a face, that Mark guessed to be Jesse. Instead of the square tables with the large gingham check tablecloths, he saw octagonal tables covered with light blue cloths, topped by square of cream damask set at an angle. It looked very stylish, but not too much for a BBQ restaurant. He became aware that Steve was watching him with a small grin tugging as the corner of his mouth in obvious appreciation that his dads well known powers of observation had not deserted him over the years. It was also obvious to Mark that Steve had a question, one of many no doubt, on his mind. Looking Steve squarely in the face, Mark waited.  
  
"Dad, where have you been? Do you know what I've gone through?"  
  
"Steve," Mark began, "If I could turn back the clock so that the last twenty years never happened , I would. There is no way that I would have intentionally put you , and the others, through the pain that you must have felt."  
  
"I know that dad," Steve answered with a gently smile on his face, "but the question remains, where have you been?"  
  
"Arizona," Mark replied, "I have no idea how I got there and but for the incredible kindness of one lady, I don't know what would have happened. She rented me her spare room and gave me a job in her hardware store until I retired five years ago. Since then I've been having fun entertaining children at parties."  
  
"Well the memory may have been missing but your love of children certainly hadn't," Steve chuckled then carried on, "Carrie, Beth and Chris would have loved that."  
  
" Carrie, Beth and Chris? Who are they?"  
  
"Your grandchildren dad. Twin girls, 16 and a son, 14."  
  
Of all the revelations so far that day, this was the one that stunned Mark the most.  
  
"Married? You? The Unluckiest Bachelor in LA?" Mark smiled, "So when can I meet the lucky lady and the kids?"  
  
A haunted look came across Steve's face and his voice, when he spoke, was barely more than a whisper, "I wish you could dad, I really do but she passed away six weeks ago."  
  
Marks hands tightened reflexively around Steve's as he said, " Son, I am so sorry. I know just what you are going through."  
  
Regaining one hand and using it to wipe a stray tear away Steve said, "This isn't the right place or time to talk dad. Later at home. Right now I want to take you to the hospital for a thorough examination."  
  
Mark protested all the way to the hospital, but Steve was having none of it. He had his father back and he was going to make darn sure that he was okay. Entering CG Mark, once again, was struck by the subtleness of the changes that had taken place. CG had obviously been well looked after and maintained throughout the last two decades. There was no sign of paint peeling from the walls, all the furniture looked was clean with no rips or tears that was so prevalent in many other hospitals. The whole place had an indefinable air of business like activity combined with a homelike atmosphere. On their passage from the car park through the hospital he and Steve encountered numerous members of staff. All stopped Steve, with a gentle hand on the arm and a solicitous, "How are you?", whilst favouring Mark with only a cursory glance. Despite himself, Mark felt hurt. It was almost as if his time at CG had counted for nothing. It didn't cross his mind that the majority of people who greeted Steve would have no idea who Dr. Mark Sloan was. There was one man in a white lab coat, presumably a doctor, who did a double take when he saw Mark but his attention was claimed by a nurse and he disappeared into one of the side rooms.  
  
Leading his father along a corridor that led to Mark's old office Steve stopped and opened a door. Stepping in, Mark almost expected to see Delores sitting there. Instead an attractive woman looked up and smiled. When she saw Steve she got up and gave him a big hug, which Steve returned. "Hi Steve. How are you doing?"  
  
Exhaling a deep breath Steve said, "I'm getting there. Is he in Shona?" jerking his head in the direction of the office that had been the scene of many murder conferences and mock basketball games.  
  
"No, he's just been called to see a patient. Shall I page him?"  
  
Nodding Steve said, "Yes please Shona. Tell him I have a patient that I want to talk to him about. We'll go in and wait if that's okay," so saying he ushered Mark through the door. Before he followed, Steve leant over Shona's desk and said, "Don't say that I have someone with me."  
  
Curiosity getting the better of her Shona had to ask, "Who is that man?"  
  
With the widest smile that anyone had seen on his face for many a long month Steve said, "My dad."  
  
Shonas mouth formed itself into a large O shape and her eyes opened wide, allowing the tear that formed in one corner an easy route down her cheek. As much as the man who occupied the office next to where she sat, did she know how much this meant to Steve. Following Mark in Steve found him standing in front of a skeleton with a reminiscent smile on his face, "Aha, I see that there is a new skeleton here. Not a murder victim this time I hope."  
  
"No it isn't," laughed Steve, "Come and sit down dad. The doctor I want you to see will be here soon."  
  
For a few minutes the two men sat in silent contemplation with many questions buzzing around their minds. Questions that needed asking and answering, but for now they were content simply to be in the same room again. Steve had deliberately placed Mark so that his back was to the door, whilst he had taken up position round the other side of the enormous mahogany desk. From the other side of the door a murmur of voices could be heard, one female and the other, a deeper male voice. The connecting door was flung open and a voice said, "Yo Steve. What's the idea of sneaking a patient past Shona the Vampire?"  
  
"I'll bite your neck one of these days!" came a voice full of humour through the doorway.  
  
Turning back to throw a "Promises promises!" quip over his shoulder the man didn't see Mark stand up , but he heard a long missed voice say, "Hello Jack. Long time no see."  
  
For the first time in his life Dr. Jack Stewart, Consultant Orthopaedist, was dumbfounded. As he stood there rooted to the spot, the woman they had spoken to earlier appeared in the doorway. She grinned at the unaccustomed sight of her husband without a quip ready to trip off his lips. She gently touched his shoulder and said, "Jack?". Shaking himself out of his reverie he moved swiftly across the room and , like Steve earlier, flung his arms around the man he had regarded throughout his training and residency as a surrogate father. Over Marks shoulder, eyes brimming over with tears, Jack looked questioningly at Steve.  
  
Answering the unspoken question Steve said, "I don't know Jack. You and Shona come over tonight and we'll catch up. Bring the boys as well," grinning he carried on, "I'm sure the girls won't object."  
  
From the doorway where she stood Shona chuckled, "I'm pretty sure they won't. Listen, gotta get back to work the boss is a slave driver. Nice to meet you Mark, see you later Steve."  
  
Stepping back from Marks embrace Jack held him at arms length and looked him up and down, shaking his head, "Mark, my friend. You look truly amazing. Wherever you've been and whatever you've been doing must have agreed with you."  
  
"It did Jack, it did," Mark replied a little mistily," but nothing has agreed with me more than regaining my memory and being back here."  
  
Stepping forward Steve said, "I want you to give dad the once over Jack. I know you say you're okay dad," he said as Mark repeated his objection, " Humour me, please."  
  
Holding up his hands in a familiar gesture of mock defeat Mark subsided. The three men made their way down to an examination room where Jack put Mark through a very thorough series of tests. Finally hanging his stethoscope back around his neck Jack said, "Well, I have to concur with Dr. Sloan here Steve, your dad is as fit as a man of his age can possibly expect to be. We'll need to wait for the results of the blood tests to come back but I don't anticipate anything showing up."  
  
Mark was behind the screen getting dressed when the door to the examination room opened and a voice could be heard, " Jack can I see you a moment please, I need an orthopaedic consult." Footsteps could be heard entering the room and the voice carried on ,"Steve, what are you doing here? I thought you were at Bobs today."  
  
"I was Jess, but I had to bring someone in for a check-up."  
  
"Not from eating our food?" came the horrified response.  
  
"No Jess, not from eating your food," Mark spoke from behind the screen.  
  
There was silence for a short while and then a fuming Jesse snapped, "That's not even halfway to being funny guys. Even for you two, that's a low blow," with that Mark could hear the sound of the door slamming and angry footsteps pounding away.  
  
Mark hastily buttoned up his shirt and made for the door. He opened it and called out, "Jesse wait."  
  
Coming to a halt Dr. Jesse Travis, Head of Internal Medicine turned saying, " Will you guys give it………….," his voice trailed into nothing and his face turned seven shades of grey. Slowly, as if in a daze, he walked slowly back towards Mark. Like Steve and Jack before him it was only physical contact with Mark that broke him out of his almost hypnotic state. Reaching up he laid a hand on Marks face and whispered, "My God it really is you! I thought these two were playing a joke on me," then his face paled, his eyes rolled up his head and Jesse Travis hit the floor with a resounding thump.  
  
Steve and Jack looked at each other for a split second in total astonishment, in all the years that both men had known Jesse nothing before had caused him to pass out. Moving quickly to their friend, they carried him carefully back to the examination room they had just vacated. Jack suggested that Mark and Steve go home. "I'll bring Jesse and Mae along tonight," he stopped for a moment and then chuckled, "Once Jesse comes to, there won't be a force on earth that could keep him away."  
  
Seeing that Mark was preparing to argue with Jack Steve placed a hand on his elbow to guide him away using the one weapon that he knew would work, "Come on Grandpa, it's after three and there will be three people at home that will be thrilled to meet you."  
  
Jack smiled as he heard Mark's eager questions about his grandchildren as the pair disappeared into the elevator.  
  
As they got closer to the beach and the house that held some many memories for Mark, his constant questioning dried up as he began to wonder just what reaction he might expect to get from his grandchildren. Oh, he knew what Steve had said, that they would be absolutely thrilled. However, they had not long lost their mother and Mark was concerned that they might not have the emotional reserves to cope with a long lost grandfather. He voiced this concern to Steve who assured him that the kids were coping fine. Turning in his seat to face his son Mark said, "How are you dealing with them at the moment Steve ? I know you son, you are too much like me and I'm worried that you might be dealing with this the same way that I did when your mom died."  
  
A frown creased Steve's brow and his mouth thinned as he replied very carefully, "Dad I was married for seventeen years to a wonderful woman who taught me not to bottle my feelings up and how to talk things through. I'm coping just fine with the kids."  
  
Realising that he'd stepped into some sort of father/son no-go area Mark subsided. It hadn't occurred to him that Steve would have changed inside as well as outside. In some foolish way he supposed he'd expected everything to be the same and that he'd be able to slot right into the 'father figure' role that had been so familiar to him. His memory might have been returned to him, but it had been returned with memories of people that, in a very real way, no longer existed. When he had last known Steve, Jesse and Jack they had all been bachelors – footloose and fancy free. Now they were all married with children and their lives had evolved in ways that he did not, at the moment, comprehend. A thought struck Mark as they drove along, "Steve?" he asked, "Is it okay for you to be doing this today? I mean you haven't got to go on duty tonight have you?"  
  
Steve gently sighed, this was a question that he had been expecting for a while and one which he had been dreading to answer. Keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the road he said, " No dad, I don't have to go on duty tonight. I haven't had to do a night duty since you left." He paused trying to find the right words knowing that, whichever words he chose, his dad would be hurt by them, "After you disappeared I spent almost every off duty minute looking for you. One day, I just couldn't get out of bed. I had a complete mental and physical breakdown. I spent six months in a sanatorium just learning to function again. There was no way I could stay on the force dad. I lost my confidence. I felt that if I couldn't find my own father, who I knew so well, how on earth could I expect to catch criminals that I knew nothing about. So I left and concentrated on Bobs," he grinned and carried on, " Actually it was a good decision. Jesse and I now have a chain of Bobs around California and things are going really well."  
  
"Steve, I am so sorry," Mark said, "I know how much being a police officer meant to you."  
  
" 'Meant' is the operative word dad. I realised that being a police officer wasn't as important to me as you were, are or indeed the other people in my life. You know how many girlfriends I had back then and how many of those relationships failed, other than the obvious ones who tried to kill me or had killed someone else. I think that, deep down, none of them lasted because I didn't want to let anyone get too close in case I got killed in the line of duty. I saw how much moms death affected you and I didn't want to inflict that on anyone. It was only leaving the force that freed me to really love someone."  
  
By this time they had arrived back at the house. Moving straight out onto the deck, as in times past they sat down in the easy chairs and looked out over the ocean. After a while Mark  
  
stirred and said, "Tell me about your wife Steve. What's her name? What was she like? Did she make you happy?"  
  
Steve did not answer immediately. Looking over at him, Mark saw his face tighten and close up a little. He wondered if he was pushing for too much too soon and voiced that thought. He was pleased to see Steve's face relax a little as he said, "No dad. I was just remembering and trying to think where to start."  
  
"How about at the beginning. How did you meet?"  
  
"We'd already met before you left dad. I married Cheryl. She was a rock after you'd disappeared . Jesse and Amanda were great, but they were missing you as well and had their own grieving process to go through. Although Cheryl knew you, she was able to step back a bit and help me to see the bigger picture. After I left the police Cheryl did too and she used her savings to buy into Bobs with us. We gradually grew closer until it became obvious to everyone but us that we were meant to be together. One night Jesse and Amanda sat us down, told us how stupid we were being and left us alone. We were married three months later. As for your last question, yes she made me very happy. Happier than I ever have thought possible," for a few seconds he paused and then shot a quick look at Mark , "I now understand what you meant when you spoke about what you and mom had."  
  
Into the silence that followed came the sound of the front door slamming and three pairs of feet pounding up the stairs. "Dad?" a female voice called out with evident concern, "Are you okay? What are you doing home at this time?"  
  
Reaching out and laying a restraining hand on Marks shoulder Steve called out, "I'm fine honey. Out here, we have a visitor."  
  
Three tall, lithe, very good looking young people emerged into the sunlight through the double doors leading from the lounge. The two girls, with dark, curly, closely cropped hair were first, dressed similarly in jeans and sweater tops. They were closely followed by a slightly shorter, slim boy with longish blond hair and he was wearing baggy green combat trousers and a dark green t-shirt. Looking at them all Mark was struck by just how much the girls resembled Cheryl and that Chris was the exact duplicate of his father at that age. Each had a rucksack flung carelessly over one shoulder, a clear sign that they had just come home from school. They came to a halt just through the door and flung a quick interested glance at Mark, although a slight frown of recognition crossed Chris' forehead. Then all three young people looked back at their father waiting for enlightenment from him. Mark stood next to Steve who put his arm round his fathers shoulder, cleared his throat and said, "Carrie, Beth, Chris I'd like you to meet Dr. Mark Sloan……………your grandfather."  
  
Into the stunned silence that followed and all five people would say later how clearly they could hear the waves beating on the seashore, a loud squeal of delight came from both Carrie and Beth who dropped their bags on the floor and flung themselves so hard at Mark that he nearly fell over. Emerging , sometime later, pink, ruffled and with tears running down his face Mark looked across at his grandson Chris, who had remained rooted to the spot. His face was flushed with red and his expression was one of anger. He turned on his heel and marched back inside. A few seconds later everyone heard the sound of a door slamming loudly. Steve started after him, his face like thunder, but found his way barred by his two daughters. "Remember what mom used to say?," they asked,  
  
"Nothing should be said in anger that can't better be said on calm reflection. We'll go talk to him." As they walked away Carrie grinned at Steve over her shoulder and said, " I wonder where Chris gets his temperament from?"  
  
As the girls disappeared Steve looked at Mark saying, "I'm sorry about that dad."  
  
Mark was quick to reassure Steve, " Son, given what you have been through I'm not surprised," pausing he carried on, "Steve, can I ask how did Cheryl die?"  
  
Steve walked over to the edge of the deck and gripped the railing, "She was diagnosed with Motor Neurone Disease. Do you remember telling me about how you gave my grandmother a lethal dose of morphine? I can't tell you how often in the last 18 months I wished I could have done the same for Cheryl. We talked about it, Cheryl and I. Often. But it always came back to the same thing – the kids.  
  
Sure, they'd have a home with Jesse or Jack, but how would they have felt knowing that I had ended their mothers life? Even for the very best of reasons. So I watched her suffer. Her speech, mobility and even the simple task of being able to eat slowly being eroded in front of my eyes. It was the nearest thing to hell that I can imagine dad."  
  
Steve turned back to his father and his eyes were shining with unshed tears, "Do you what my overwhelming feeling was on the day Cheryl died? Relief! That's awful, isn't it?" He rubbed his hand across his face and continued, "It was almost as if you heard my prayer for you to come back dad. I couldn't have told anybody else that. Not Jack or Jesse and certainly not the kids. They would have thought me so wicked."  
  
Walking across to stand by his son Mark placed a trembling arm around Steve's shoulders and said, "You are not wicked son. The relief that you felt wasn't unusual. No, mainly the relief you felt was for Cheryl, that she wasn't in pain anymore. It was for the children, that they didn't have to see it anymore. There was also a measure of relief for yourself. Knowing that you wouldn't have to wake up the next morning wondering if this was the day that you finally said goodbye to your wife and whether you would be able to cope. That is exactly how I felt when your mom died and I felt guilty too. We spend a lot of our lives wondering how we would cope in any given situation and that is often far far worse than the actual reality."  
  
Leaning his head against his fathers' and wiping the tears away, along with some of the guilt, Steve said, "Thanks dad. I needed to hear that from someone who had actually been there," sniffing he carried on, " Do you want a cup of coffee?"  
  
"Double double de-caf non-fat grande late, hold the froth," joked Mark.  
  
"In this house it's instant or instant," responded Steve.  
  
"I'll take instant then," Mark replied, following Steve across the lounge into the kitchen.  
  
Busying himself by filling the kettle and putting it on to boil Steve said thoughtfully, "I can't understand Chris dad. Of all the kids, he has been the one that has talked most about how much he'd like to see you and when he gets his wish he reacts like that!"  
  
"It was a shock Steve. Never forget he's only just lost his mother and people don't react as they would normally do when they are grieving. Give him some time."  
  
"Mmmmm," pouring the boiling water over the coffee crystals, Steve picked up a spoon and stood for a long time absentmindedly mixing the two together. It wasn't until Mark coughed that he realised what he was doing. He smiled in that absent way that Mark remembered and he knew that his sons mind wasn't on that cup of coffee. He was downstairs with his children, sorting things out. It was hard being a parent, sometimes you just have to let them sort things out for themselves. Handing over the cup to Mark, Steve said,"It seems like we have a houseful tonight. BBQ okay with you?"  
  
"Why not. I assume I'm still a partner?" Mark asked, receiving a nod in reply, "then I think I need to check out my investment."  
  
Steve had picked up the phone and after doing some mental calculations he placed his order and said, "I'll pick it up about 6.30, okay?"  
  
For the rest of the afternoon and early evening Mark spent his time settling into the guest room. Steve and Cheryl had taken over the master suite and the children slept downstairs in what had been Steve's bachelor pad all those years ago. Steve assured Mark that the kids were safe down there and that he knew exactly what was going on. Having survived, barely, Steve and Carols teenage years Mark was none too sure of the accuracy of the last bit of the statement, but he let it ride. He was tempted to go downstairs to try and talk to Chris but he resisted, not wanting to seem too pushy. Steve left the house at about six to pick up the food leaving Mark and the girls setting the table.  
  
"Grandpa," asked Beth, "who is coming tonight?"  
  
"Jesse and Jack with their families," Mark noticed, with amusement the smile on the girls faces on hearing that Jacks sons were going to be in attendance," Dion Bentley and hopefully he will have managed to contact Amanda and CJ. I can't wait to see them again." Mark was busy making sure there were enough napkins and didn't notice the look that passed between Carrie and Beth.  
  
They were disturbed by a car horn honking loudly in the driveway. Making their way to the car to help their father in with the food Carrie whispered to Beth, "Grandpa doesn't know does he?"  
  
"Obviously not, " returned Beth, "I guess pops thought he could only take so much at one time." Reaching the car and taking a couple of boxes from Steve the girls let him know that Mark had mentioned Amanda. "Okay, I'd better ring Dion and see what he wants to do."  
  
Making his way up the stairs couple of minutes later Steve passed Carrie and said, "Can you and Beth empty the car and set the food out? I'm going to take dad for a walk on the beach. Can you let people in if they arrive before we get back?" he paused and carried on, "see if you can get Chris out of his room."  
  
Walking across to Mark, Steve took the platter out of his hands and put it down on the table and led his somewhat mystified father down the wooden steps and onto the beach. For a couple of minutes they walked along the sand in silence as Steve struggled to find the right words for what he had to say. Finally, Mark was unable to take the silence any longer and said, "Steve, what is going on? You obviously have something to tell me so just spit it out."  
  
Steve stopped and said, "Okay, it's about Amanda and CJ. They won't be here tonight."  
  
"Are they away?"  
  
"No dad. I have some bad news," holding onto Mark carefully Steve said, "Amanda and CJ are dead. It happened about five years ago. CJ joined the airforce like Colin and became a pilot. He also gained his private pilots licence and he often used to take Amanda up for a ride when he was home. One day they went up for an afternoons flying, a storm rolled in unexpectedly and they never came back. We don't know exactly what happened, but it looked like their navigation went out or was hit by lightening. When they were found, over a week later, they were way off of the flight plan that CJ had logged. The only good thing was that the investigators said that with the injuries they found, both CJ and Amanda died on impact."  
  
Mark had sunk down and was sitting on the sand. He had regarded Amanda as his second daughter and to hear that she had died was a real blow. Looking across at Steve, who had sat down next to him Mark said, " How did Dion cope with it all?"  
  
"He was devastated dad but, like all of us, he worked his way through it and came out the other end whole," Steve fell silent for a moment and then continued, "Just like I will. So will the kids." They both stood and Steve said, "C'mon dad, foods awaiting and I'm sure that Jesse is there already knife and fork in hand."  
  
Walking by his sons side Mark chuckled, "not everything has changed then!"  
  
Making their way back along the beach and up onto the deck Mark was amazed at how quickly the girls had worked. All the food was on the table and the gentle aroma of the ribs, keeping warm on the hotplate, wafted out over the sand. Giving the girls quick 'thank you' hugs on the way past, both Steve and Mark made their way to their rooms to change. Just as Mark was reaching into his wardrobe for a clean shirt he heard the doorbell ring followed quickly by Beth's voice calling out, "I'll get it!"  
  
  
  
Mark sat on his bed buttoning up his cardigan listening to the happy buzz of voices. It wasn't that cold really but Mark had begun to notice of late that he was feeling the chill of the early evenings a little more than he used to. He stood and looking out of the window saw the trellis that Steve used to climb down and up, many times. Grinning to himself he remembered the many times he had stood on the ground waiting for Steve to touch down. Then the inevitable verbal tussle before Steve gracelessly acquiesced and went back inside. His smile faded as he realised that he'd missed all of that with his grandchildren. Missed out on being the special person that they could run to when mom and dad got too much for them. It was a quiet, almost furtive, clicking sound that brought him back to the present. He re- focused his vision in time to see a baggily dressed blond figure look up at his window, before furtively disappearing through the beach gate. Mark watched as Chris made his way slowly across the sand, occasionally looking back as if afraid of being caught and dragged back. Suddenly a light flickered in Marks brain. Chris wasn't afraid of being caught, he wanted Mark to see him. Leaving his bedroom, Mark walked quietly down the stairs to the front door and went out, shutting it quietly behind him. He didn't see Steve standing in the shadow of the big leafy plant by his bedroom door watching his progress. He , too, had heard Chris' exit and watched his passage across the sand. Steve's face creased into a reflective smile. How many times had Mark followed him across the beach and got him to talk about whatever it was that had been bothering him? Turning on his heels, his eyes a little brighter than normal, he greeted his guests.  
  
For the second time that evening Mark walked across the stretch of beach that he had trod on countless occasions before. This time he was following the steps that his young grandson had recently made. Passing through a gap in the dunes he stopped and looked either way. Mark smiled, for Chris was sitting in exactly the same spot that his father had made his own over the years. Looking up Chris caught his grandfathers smile and said, "This is all funny to you is it?"  
  
" I wasn't laughing at you Chris, I was remembering," said Mark as he lowered himself down to sit next to the scowling young man, " This is the exact spot that your dad and I used to sit and talk. We're very much alike, he and I, you know. We were never very good at communicating our feelings and problems to one another. I suppose in some way we felt that if we couldn't deal with a problem ourselves, then we had failed. Arrogance I suppose you'd call it."  
  
Chris bristled at the implied criticism of his beloved father, "Dad isn't arrogant."  
  
"I know that," Mark sighed, this was going to be harder than he imagined, " We worked hard over the years at overcoming that fault and we had got to the point, before I left, where we could talk about anything. I realise that you are angry at me and I totally understand that, but I would like to be able to work this out so that we can talk too."  
  
"Why should I be angry at you?" countered Chris, "How can you be angry at someone you don't even know?"  
  
Despite his determination to let Chris vent his anger at him Mark was hurt. " I think you are angry with me Chris, for lots of reasons. I haven't been here to see you grow up into the fine young man I see before me and believe me, no-one could be more angry about that than I am. I have missed out on so much," Mark knew that what he was about to say next was guaranteed to blow the top off of Chris' carefully capped volcano of emotions, "You are also angry with me because I am here and your mom isn't. I can't change either of those two things, but I'm here now and I want to help."  
  
Mark was right, Volcano Chris blew. "How can you help? Can you bring my mom back? Because, right now that is the only thing that I want. It's a sick joke that the one person I have wanted to see all these years turns up when the person I love the most, apart from my dad, dies. So much for God loving me! He doesn't, he's abandoned me. All these years I have been praying that you would turn up and you do, just as my mom leaves me. If I hadn't prayed so much for you to come back, maybe my mom would still be alive," collapsing onto the sand Chris curled up into a little protective ball and his body was wracked with sobs.  
  
Mark reached out to touch his shoulder and then pulled his hand back as he realised that physical contact was not was Chris needed at the moment. What he needed was someone who would just sit there and let him rant. Eventually the sobs died away and Chris sat up his eyes red with the tears he had shed.  
  
Mark spoke , " Have you told your dad any of this?"  
  
"No. He's got enough to deal with at the moment without me adding to it," Chris' voice, when he spoke was hoarse with tears.  
  
Looking out at the ocean to see the sun setting Mark saw that the sky, where the sun touched the water on the horizon, was turning a beautiful shade of red. It was as if the heat of the sun had set the ocean and the surrounding sky on fire. He spoke, "Chris, look over there and tell me what you see."  
  
Looking up Chris said, "A sunset."  
  
"Not just a sunset. As the sun is setting here it is rising somewhere else. I believe that with every sunset and sunrise God is showing to us that life is a circle. Every time our small part of the planet is plunged into darkness, so another small part is bathed with light. Your part of the planet was plunged into darkness by your mums death, but my small part of the planet became bathed in light again when I regained my memory. I don't believe that my memory came back so that I could take your mums place in your life, that would be impossible. It came back so that I could be here to help you deal with what you are feeling – the anger, the hurt – without you having to feel guilty about burdening your dad or your sisters," pausing for a while to let those words sink in he looked around and saw the footprints that Chris had made, in which he had trodden and he carried on, "look behind you Chris and tell me what you see."  
  
"What is this, twenty questions?" Chris asked looking round, " All I can see are my footprints."  
  
"Not true Chris. They belong to me as well, because I used them to follow you earlier on. Have you heard of a piece of writing called 'Footprints' ?" Chris shook his head and Mark carried on, " It tells of a man who was looking back, with Jesus by his side, over the steps he had trodden throughout his life and said that he could see where Jesus was walking with him but that every time he hit a rough patch in his life there was only a single set of footprints. He complained that Jesus had left him at the points in his life when he needed him the most. Jesus said that the single set of footprints wasn't because he had left the man, it was because that he was carrying him through the problem. Do you understand what I am saying Chris?"  
  
Chris shook his head and Mark carried on, " It means that even if you think God has abandoned you, he hasn't. He's carrying you at this very moment."  
  
Chris turned to look out over the water and Mark judged that he had said enough. He stood up, patted his grandson on the shoulder and walked back to the house sending up a silent prayer of thanks for being given the right words to say.  
  
As Mark approached the top of the steps he heard a voice calling out to him, "Hey Mark, get in here before all the ribs go. Jesse has arrived."  
  
As he entered the lounge Mark caught Steve's eye and just nodded with a slight smile on his face. He was pleased to see a relieved look come across his sons face as his shoulders dropped releasing some of the tension that he had been feeling. Turning, Mark saw Jesse approaching him from across the room, dragging a very attractive brunette in his wake. Before Jesse could reach him Mark held his hands up in front of him and jokingly said, "You're not going to pass out on me again are you Jess?"  
  
The room erupted in laughter as Jesse reached Mark and hugged him. "No, not this time Mark. Only one fainting per reunion," he brought the brunette to his side and carried on, " This is my wife, Mae."  
  
Holding out his hand Mark said, "I'm very pleased to meet you Mae."  
  
"It's a pleasure to meet you Mark," Mae replied, her voice calm and melodic, " I have heard so much about you over the years."  
  
"Knowing Jesse," chuckled Mark, " they were some of our less than finest moments."  
  
Jesse just grinned.  
  
Giving her husband a squeeze Mae said, "I'll leave you two alone to get reacquainted," and she walked over to greet Jack and Shona.  
  
"Lets get some food," suggested Jesse, "I'm starving and I can't possibly talk on an empty stomach."  
  
They moved across to where the food was set out and generously filled two plates before sitting down on two of the seats that Steve had placed out on the deck. For a few minutes neither man spoke as they were too busy sampling the food. Eventually, even Jesse was satisfied and he placed his empty plate on the table in front of him. Turning to Mark he said, "So tell me Mark what happened to you?"  
  
Again Mark found himself telling the story of the last twenty years. Later, in bed, he reflected that it didn't get any easier, because every retelling made him realise that he had missed a large chunk of the listeners life. Coming to the end of his story he looked at Jesse and said, "Now you tell me Dr. Travis, what have you been doing over the last twenty years?"  
  
Jesse sat for a while in silence before he answered, "After you first left I spent much of my time trying to stop Steve from self-destructing. Guess I didn't do too well at that one! It took me a long while to really get used to the fact that you were gone. I lost count of the number of times that I asked people to page you when a difficult case came in and I know Amanda kept wanting to ring you when a homicide victim crossed her table. You know, CG was as busy as ever, but it still felt like there was something important missing."  
  
Marks eyes misted over and he reached across to grip Jesses shoulder. Jesse continued, " Life went on Mark and gradually we became accustomed to you not being there. We have never stopped missing you but your absence slowly but surely became bearable. You know? Well Steve came back and was running Bobs, he and Cheryl finally got it together and like all reformed bachelors Steve desperately wanted to find someone for me. He was telling me about this gorgeous girl that kept coming into Bobs and I finally agreed to a blind date. We went out, something clicked and we've been together ever since."  
  
"Do you have any kids?" Mark asked, "I didn't see anyone come in with you and Mae."  
  
"Yeah we do. Daniel, he's seventeen. He already had a date for this evening. He sends his apologies and has ordered us to have you over for dinner as soon as possible."  
  
"I shall look forward to it Jesse. Well now, that's your personal life, how about work? What are you doing now?"  
  
Jesse drew himself up to his fullest height, puffed out his chest and said , "Dr. Jesse Travis, Head of Internal Medicine."  
  
"Excellent news Jesse. I'm sure that you thoroughly deserve the position."  
  
"Well, I learnt a lot on how to deal with people and patients from you Mark. I'm also teaching some classes as well. I really enjoy that, passing on some of what I learned from you……….and some of what I have picked up over the years."  
  
" Where are you living now?" Mark asked.  
  
" Two doors along," Jesse replied, " A few years ago it came up for sale and we bought it. Daniel loves living here at the beach. We surf together whenever we can. Steve and the kids often join us as well."  
  
"I'm not surprised to hear that Steve is still surfing, he looks as though he's taking care of himself," he paused and chuckled, "I'm also not surprised that the kids have joined in as well."  
  
"It was one of things that Cheryl loved to watch them do. When she got too weak to move far, she and Mae would sit out on the deck and watch us all surf. I think that really helped Steve. He got some much needed physical exercise which helped him relax and that helped him cope with Cheryl's illness."  
  
Casting a quick look across at his son who was having a light hearted tussle with Jack over the last few ribs and said, "How is he doing Jess? I mean, really."  
  
Following Marks line of vision Jesse answered, "Really well Mark, honestly. I'm sure that there are times, when he's alone, that it all crowds in on him but he is doing really well. You know, Cheryl was an amazing woman. She taught Steve an awful lot, especially about himself. Back then he seemed strong but that was often because he bottled things up. Now he really is strong mentally, because he can admit when he needs help and talks far more readily than ever he used to."  
  
"Do you think that I inhibited Steve back then?" Mark asked cautiously.  
  
Jesse thought for a while before answering, " Inhibited him? That's not the word that I would have used. You were a remarkable man Mark and your personality cast a long shadow and, whether he realised it or not, Steve did defer to you a lot back then. When you left, a part of Steve seemed to go away too and it took Cheryl to show the way to bring that part back. He had to deal with things himself, without your counsel, and Cheryl showed him that he had the inner strength to do that."  
  
The object of their discussion walked towards them proudly eating the proof that he had been victorious in his tussle with Jack.  
  
"Hi guys," he said, his secret recipe sauce dribbling down his chin, " everything okay?"  
  
"Couldn't be better," said Jesse, reaching up with a napkin to wipe the sauce away and Steve swatted at him with the rib he was eating speckling Jesse's shirt with a number of brown blobs, "Where's Dion? Didn't he say he was popping in?"  
  
"Yeah, he rang earlier. He's caught up with a case. Occupational hazard," Steve grinned in remembrance. As he finished speaking the doorbell rang and from inside a voice could be heard, "I'll get it!"  
  
Tapping Steve on the arm Mark said, "Where are the girls, I haven't seen them in a while?"  
  
"They are inside entertaining Jacks boys," smiling indulgently Steve carried on, " Carrie has a huge crush on Luke and Beth has a soft spot for Matt."  
  
Getting up out of his seat Mark said, "Well I think that I ought to go in and cast my eye over these two young men. See if they are suitable." He softened the words with a grin that was matched by Steve and walked through the doors into the lounge.  
  
Inside he saw two tall, well muscled young men chatting to Beth. As he entered the room Beth looked up and walked over to him with a welcoming smile on her face saying, "Grandpa, come and meet Matt and Luke."  
  
Mark stepped forward and shook the outstretched hands saying, "It's very nice to meet you. Goodness me, you both look so much like your father at the same age. Boy, could I tell you some tales about him!"  
  
With looks of evil anticipation on their faces Matt and Luke dragged Mark to sit down next to them with the firm intention of persuading him to do just that. Unfortunately for them, but luckily for their father, Carrie chose that moment to come back up the stairs with a new guest. Mark was surprised to note that it was the doctor from the hospital that had seemed to recognise him. He stood in front of Mark with a smile on his face and said, "Remember me Dr. Sloan?"  
  
Mark took a long, close look at the face in front of him and exclaimed, "Alex! My word, it took me a while. How are you my boy?"  
  
Shaking hands Alex responded, "I'm very well . Gosh it is really good to see you. I never thought that it would happen, although I know that deep down Steve never really gave up hope."  
  
"No Alex, he wouldn't. Too much like his father I'm afraid. Anyway , what are you doing. Still at CG?"  
  
"Yes I am. I've just been promoted and I'm now head of ER. It's very challenging and really keeps me on my toes," he beamed, "I now know why Jesse and Jack are always complaining about money.  
  
Keeping on top of the budget is a real joy."  
  
By now the events of the day were catching up on Mark and he gave a long, drawn out yawn. "I'm sorry Alex, that's no reflection on your conversation. I'm just exhausted."  
  
"That's okay Mark. Look phone me and we'll organise lunch. You can meet Annie."  
  
"Annie?" queried Mark  
  
"My wife, she's gorgeous, you'll love her everyone does."  
  
Passing by and seeing his dads yawn Steve said, " I think it's time that you were in bed dad,"  
  
Looking up at his son Mark said, " You've been waiting years to turn that phrase on me haven't you?"  
  
"I knew that I'd be able to use it eventually," Steve responded, helping Mark up out of the sofa.  
  
Making his way round to everyone to say goodnight, Mark arranged to meet Jack for lunch the next day. Reaching his room, Mark was suddenly bushed. It had been a long, emotionally exhausting day and he needed some sleep. Getting into bed, his head had barely touched the pillow before he was asleep. He didn't hear everyone leaving or Steve coming in to check on him. He certainly was unaware of Chris entering his room much later and standing at the foot of the bed watching his grandfather.  
  
The next morning Mark awoke to the unaccustomed sound of surf rolling in onto the beach outside his window. He lay there for a while just revelling in the fact that he had regained his memory, his family and his friends. The sound of voices floated through the house as Carrie, Beth and Chris got ready for school. Listening to the mini arguments about whose turn it was next in the bathroom, who ought to be making the lunches he was reminded of all the times he had been in the middle of a similar discussion with Carol and Steve. He realised that, with everything that had gone on the day before, he hadn't spoken to Steve about Carol. He needed to find out how she was and to contact her as well. He was suddenly aware that the voices he had been hearing had suddenly got quieter. Straining his ears he heard Steve say, "That's better. Grandpa needs to sleep, it was a big day for him yesterday."  
  
Deciding that he was not going to get back to sleep Mark threw back his covers and got out of bed. Putting on his robe and sliding his feet into his old, well-worn slippers he padded out to seek out the voices before they all disappeared for the day. As he opened the door into the kitchen four pairs of eyes swung his way and Steve said, "I told you to keep the noise down."  
  
"That's okay Steve, you didn't wake me up. I was lying in bed listening to the sound of the ocean and heard you all talking, so I decided to get up and say hi before you all departed."  
  
"I'm not going in to Bobs today, "Steve said, "I thought I'd take the day off."  
  
"Can we pop?" asked the girls. Mark noticed that Chris didn't join in with the request, although the expression on his face didn't seem quite so hostile.  
  
"Not today, it's too close to finals for you to do that," Steve said, "but we will do something special at the weekend. How's that?"  
  
"If that's the best on offer pop, we'll take it," Carrie said, "Okay, c'mon guys lets hustle."  
  
Picking up their lunches on the way past, all three youngsters said goodbye to both Steve and Mark and thumped noisily down the stairs, a slamming door the final notice that they had left the house.  
  
Carrying on clearing up the breakfast things Steve said, " Chris doesn't seem quite so angry this morning. What did you say to him out on the beach last night?"  
  
"Oh we just talked about the sunset and footprints," replied Mark and grinned at Steve's look of confusion, "Don't worry, I'm not going to push anything but I think I made a little bit of progress there last night."  
  
After a morning spent together just talking and catching up, Steve dropped Mark off at the hospital to meet Jack, before he himself popped into Bobs to get the books to take home. Arriving in Jacks outer office Mark was greeted enthusiastically by Shona, who gave him a big hug and a kiss.  
  
"Well that's very nice," commented Mark, returning the hug, "does your husband know that you greet his visitors like this?"  
  
"This is reserved for visitors who mean as much to Jack as you do, " Shona replied, " I can't tell you how happy this has made him."  
  
"Shona, if Jack is half as full of joy as I am, then he is one happy man," said Mark, turning towards the sound of the inner office door opening.  
  
"Hi Mark. Ready for lunch?" Jack said.  
  
" Are you joining us Shona?" Mark asked.  
  
"Not today Mark. You two need to have time alone to catch up."  
  
Sitting down, sometime later in the restaurant Mark looked around and said, "You haven't organised a stripper for today have you Jack?"  
  
Helpless with laughter it took Jack a while to answer. When he had composed himself he said , " To tell you the truth Mark, I did think about it but I wasn't going to risk you ending up handcuffed to a chair arm again."  
  
Eating their meal Jack and Mark talked about small things. It was only when the meal was finished that the conversation turned to serious matters.  
  
"So Jack," Mark asked, "what made you leave the ski-bunnies behind you and head for the sun-kissed beaches of California?"  
  
"Amanda contacted me when you went missing and I left my practice in my partners hands and came back to help look for you. Like Steve, I wasn't prepared to give up and when Steve broke down I couldn't leave. So I sold my half of the partnership and moved back here to LA. The board offered me a job at CG and I took it. Besides," he grinned, "with you gone Amanda and Jesse needed someone to keep them in line."  
  
"How do you and Jesse get on?"  
  
"It took a bit of work," Jack admitted, " and for a while poor Amanda was like the rope in a tug-o-war between us. We did try to pull her in all directions. The truth of the matter, Mark, was that we were jealous of each other. Jesse was jealous that I had been part of the group before him and I hated the fact that he had taken my place. Once we realised that what we were doing was downright stupid, we stopped. We actually started communicating and realised that we had a lot in common and that we liked each other. Over the years we have had some good, and bad, times but I count Jesse as one of my two best friends. Him and Steve."  
  
"I'm glad to hear that Jack. I must admit, I always wondered how the two of you would get on if you ever met. Perhaps something good did come out of my amnesia after all." Mark mused, falling silent for a while, then smiling he asked, " So tell me about Shona. I have to admit Jack that I never thought to see you married."  
  
Sipping his coffee Jack said, "Ah Shona, the light of my life. We met not long after I came back to CG. I was interviewing all these lovelies who wanted to be my secretary but they seemed to view the position as a stepping stone to marrying a doctor. Shona didn't. In fact, she was unimpressed that I was a doctor and just wanted a job."  
  
As Mark opened his mouth to comment on the fact that she married a doctor anyway, Jack continued, " I know Mark. What can I say, she fell for my undisputed charm and youthful good looks."  
  
"Talking of youthful good looks, your sons are two very handsome young men. I didn't get much of a chance to talk to them yesterday, how old are they?"  
  
"Matt is nearly 18 and Luke is 16."  
  
"Carrie and Beth seem quite taken with them," commented Mark dryly.  
  
"The feeling is entirely mutual, my friend, and has been for years. There is a bond between the four of them that is incredibly strong. I think they will be friends throughout their lives. The girls have spent a lot of time with Matt and Luke in the last few weeks and it has really helped them I think."  
  
"That's good, " said Mark, " it's always useful to have someone to talk to , whether they are family or not."  
  
Jack looked across at the man who , for so many years, had been his friend and mentor. Reaching across the table he laid a hand on Marks arm saying, "It's good to have you back."  
  
Smiling Mark replied, "It's good to be back."  
  
Looking at his watch Jack apologised , "I'm sorry Mark I have to get back now. Can I drop you at Bobs on the way?"  
  
"Yes please Jack. I said that I'd meet Steve there."  
  
It was two weeks later and early one morning Mark was sitting alone out on the deck. The air was a little chilly and he pulled his sweater closer around him. It was funny, he thought to himself, how he had gotten through the last twenty years without missing the sights and sounds that played out in front of him now. The sun was beginning to rise and its gleaming rays spread across the calm waters of the ocean. Occasionally there would be a sparkle of light on the surface of the water as the sun caught the crest of a gently rippling wave. It was as if a pearl had escaped the clutches of an oyster and risen to the surface before being caught and consigned to the murky depths again.  
  
Sipping the hot chocolate that he had sneaked into the kitchen to make, Mark thought back over the last two weeks of his life. Carrie and Beth had totally accepted him, treating him as if he'd always been there. Chris, however, was a different matter. Although there was a slight thawing in his behaviour, emotionally he was still keeping his distance.  
  
There had been a lot of catching up done, as well as new people to get to know. Jack was still Jack, although a more mature version and Mark felt that he had known Shona all his life. She was wonderful and exactly right for Jack. Mae was a really good person too. In many ways, he mused, she was very much like Amanda in temperament and seemed to have the same type of influence over Jesse. Like Jack , Jesse was still essentially the same. The same over eager puppy dog attitude to life, but tempered with maturity that had come with age and responsibility. He mentally licked his lips at the memory of the evening he had spent with Alex and Annie. The food had been divine, Annie certainly was a good cook. His smile faded a little as his thoughts jumped onto his afternoon spent with Dion. For him, this had been the saddest element of the last two weeks. They had visited the cemetery where Amanda and CJ had been laid to rest, next to each other. Mark had stood for a long time in front of the two headstones that gleamed in the warm California sunshine. There was a part of him that could not believe that the vivacious, fun-loving woman and the eager young man that he knew, were no longer around. This was the hardest part of all. Everyone else he had left behind twenty years ago were still around and he was getting to know them again, whereas his final memories of Amanda and CJ were from a time that no longer existed.  
  
He had also talked to Carol who was now living in the UK where she was happily remarried. Steve had spoken to Max, her husband, first to prepare the ground and then Carol had come on the phone. At first she hadn't believed her brother and it was only when Mark himself took the phone that she really accepted that her father had returned. They had been on the phone for hours and Carol had promised that, as soon as possible, she and Max, with their children would pay a visit to California.  
  
Marks musings were interrupted by Carrie and Beth who bounded out onto the deck calling, "Morning Grandpa!"  
  
Turning his smiling face towards his granddaughters Mark said, "Good morning girls. You're on the go early , what gives?"  
  
Carrie said, "We are going to shop 'til we drop. Dad has given us a humungous amount of money so that we can get loads of food and gifts. Everyone is coming over, Jack & Shona, Jesse & Mae, Alex and Annie. It's going to be a houseful." she sat down next to Mark placing an arm around his shoulder before carrying on, " Grandpa we didn't think that we'd feel like celebrating Thanksgiving this year, what with mom dying, but having you come home has given us something to be thankful for."  
  
Reaching across and covering Carries hand with one of his own Mark said, "Can I tag along ? There are some things I'd like to get."  
  
"Sure thing Grandpa. We leave at 0800." Beth said, in mock military style.  
  
"Roger," replied Mark, getting to his feet and throwing a lazy salute in the direction of his granddaughters as he made his way to his bedroom.  
  
Much later that day Mark knew what the girls meant when they said ' shop 'til you drop'. They shopped , he dropped! He hadn't been dragged around so many shops in such a short space of time in years. Never mind he thought, as he lowered his protesting body into a steaming bath, it had been worth it. He had bought gifts for everyone and persuaded the girls to let him pay for some of the food. He knew Steve would be cross, but what the heck! Crawling, exhausted, into bed that night he fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.  
  
It was a few hours later when he woke with a start. Lying there for a few minutes, he tried to figure out what had woken him. An odd sound gradually penetrated his consciousness. It was a rhythmic whirring sound. Curious, Mark pulled on his robe, thrust his feet into his slippers and made his way towards the source of the noise.  
  
As Mark made his way carefully along the darkened hallway, he saw in front of him a flickering light that seemed to be coming from the far side of the lounge. Brushing carefully past the large indoor plant at the edge of the lounge Marks forward passage was suddenly arrested by the images on a large screen on the opposite side of the room. It was an image of him as a younger man cradling a young infant in his arms. The pride and love in his eyes leapt off of the canvas screen and across the room at him and a lump came to his throat. It was one of the earliest films that Kathryn had taken of him and Steve and it showed a bond between father and son that had endured through the years to this very day. As he walked further into the room the image changed, now he and Steve were playing cowboys. They shot each other and collapsed in a joint heap, pretending to be dead although neither could keep the grin off their faces for very long. He was so intent on the screen that he didn't see realise that he was so close to the sofa and kicked it. Steve, who had been slumped down in the armchair, sat bolt upright. "Gee dad you shouldn't sneak up on a guy. You know, twenty years ago I'd have shot you," he joked.  
  
Moving round to sit on the sofa Mark nodded at the screen and said, "Catching up on old times?"  
  
"I guess so dad. So many memories have been crowding in the last few weeks that I needed to have them grounded in some sort of reality," pausing for a moment, he carried on saying, "Do you want to see some movies of the kids?"  
  
"I'd love to son," Mark responded with enthusiasm, all thoughts of sleep being firmly banished at this suggestion.  
  
"Okay, you put the screen and projector away. I'll look for the videos."  
  
Projector and screen put away and a fresh mug of hot chocolate each made, Mark and Steve sat down on the sofa together. "Ready?" asked Steve and receiving an answering nod, pressed the play button on the video remote.  
  
Watching the screen intently, the first image that came into view was of a young, blond boy curled up on the sofa, fast asleep. He was clothed in pale blue, Chinese style, pyjamas. His hair was all tousled and the thumb of his right hand was held firmly in his mouth by suction. As Mark watched the suction was broken and the thumb slipped. A chuckle escaped Mark as the little mouth opened in a large O as it searched for the thumb. From the edge of the screen came a hand that gently replaced the thumb. In the background Mark could swear that he heard subdued chuckling from his son. The image on the screen changed and this time he saw a dark haired little girl in bright red pyjamas curled up asleep on the floor of the hallway that led to the room he was now sleeping in. She was cuddling a pink and white teddy bear bedecked with a multi-coloured bow around it's neck. Unlike her brother, who preferred his thumb, the little girl favoured the two middle fingers on her right hand. What made it unusual was that they were in her mouth with the palm turned upwards. Looking at the screen in amazement and trying to emulate the action Mark looked at Steve and said, "How did she do that?"  
  
"Beats me dad. I tried it once, damn near broke my wrist," smiling at the angelic face on the screen he continued, "Beth would always stay in bed and go straight to sleep. Carrie was a different matter, she would wander up and down the hall until she became so tired that she just dropped. I've lost count of the number of times that I have nearly trodden on her."  
  
The images rolled on. A young boy in a red hand-knitted cardigan and blue cord trousers playing ball in the park. A little girl full of the joys of life, being swung around her feet tucked right up underneath her and laughing fit to bust. Neither Steve nor Mark noticed Chris come quietly up the stairs to investigate the noises. He stood in the shadows at the top of the stairs, watching and listening.  
  
"Oh Steve," Mark had tears, a mixture of joy and sadness, rolling down his face, "I've missed so much over the years. The girls seem to have taken my reappearance in their stride but I'm not so sure about Chris. How am I going to make it up to him?"  
  
"Dad," said Steve, turning in his seat to look at his father, "you can't make up for something that wasn't your fault and you shouldn't even try. You're back now. You once told me to always be myself. That's what you need to do now, Eventually that will be enough for Chris."  
  
"I hope so son, I really do. He's a fine young man and I really want to get to know him better."  
  
As the video came to an end and the screen blinked into darkness Chris turned away an walked thoughtfully down the stairs back to his room.  
  
Everywhere was chaos. There were far too many bodies in the enormous kitchen and they were all trying to do too many things at once. Eventually Mark, Carrie and Beth said, "Everybody out! Leave this to us."  
  
Leading everyone out of the kitchen Steve called back over his shoulder, "Are we allowed to start getting the table ready?"  
  
"Yes," chorused three voices.  
  
In preparation for the expected feast Steve and Jesse had transported a number of tables from BBQ Bobs to the beach house, along with tablecloths, cutlery, glasses etc. The night before Steve and Chris had cleared a space in the lounge and set the tables in a long rectangle. Now Shona, Mae and Annie set to work laying the cloths and putting the cutlery out. Steve, Jack, Jesse and Dion divided the remaining tasks between them. All through the house there was a buzz of activity. Calm, purposeful, welcoming. Matt, Luke, Chris and Daniel had taken themselves outside onto the deck. Their part in the proceedings came later. Table clearing, washing up, drying and putting away. With almost military timing the food was ready at the same time and Carrie and Beth called everyone to the table. Carrying the most enormous turkey from the kitchen Steve lay it down on the table in front of Mark saying, "Will you do the honours dad?"  
  
For a split second Mark thought about it and his hand twitched in the direction of the carving knife, but he stopped himself. "No, son. This is your house and you're the head of the family. You should have the honour."  
  
Something subtle happened between father and son at that moment. A baton of leadership, passing from one generation to another. Giving his father a smile full of understanding and gratitude, Steve picked the turkey up and carried it to his place at the table.  
  
The food was consumed and all around the table small, separate conversations were taking place. Into that buzz of chatter came a tinkling sound, the sound of a knife chinking against the side of a glass. Everyone fell silent and looked along the table to where Jack was standing, glass in hand.  
  
"This has been a wonderful day and a wonderful meal. Today is Thanksgiving and I think that it is entirely appropriate for each of us to say what we are thankful for today," he paused, looking round the table at all the faces that meant so much to him, " I am thankful for my beautiful wife Shona and for my two sons."  
  
Jesse stood next, "I'm thankful for my family and my friends. For those departed and those recently restored to us."  
  
Standing next, Mark said, " I'm thankful that I lived long enough to regain my memory and see all of you."  
  
Gradually, one by one, everyone around the table rose to their feet to give thanks until it was only Chris and Steve who had yet to speak. Steve looked down the table at Chris who sat with his hands folded in his lap and his eyes downcast. Sighing inside Steve was about to get to his feet when Chris looked up and said, "I guess it's my turn."  
  
He stood, for a while was silent and then began to speak, " Quite frankly, I didn't think that I had anything to be thankful for this year. I have felt angry at everyone for such a long time," he looked across at Mark and continued, " I was angry at Grandpa for not being here and I was even angrier at him for coming back. I thought he'd been given back to us to replace mom, but I was wrong."  
  
Chris moved around the table and stopped by Mark, who had risen. "Grandpa, I'm sorry. I realise now that you came back to help me grieve for mom not to replace her," flinging his arms around his grandfather his final words were muffled, "I love you Grandpa."  
  
For a long time no-one moved or spoke, the emotion in the air was too strong for that. Then slowly Steve rose and went to stand between his father and son and in a voice thick with the emotion of the moment said , " Like Chris, I haven't felt very thankful of late but now I know that I do have much to be grateful for. I am so happy that my father has been restored to me. My children continue to light up my life in so many ways. My friends are a constant joy and support. Finally I am glad I had seventeen wonderful years with the most amazing woman. She gave me so much and taught me more than I could ever hope to have learnt on my own"  
  
Walking back to his place Steve took his glass and said, "A toast. To us, may the road we have yet to tread be shared with as much joy as the road behind us."  
  
"To us," everyone chorused.  
  
*******************************************************************  
  
Epilogue  
  
The last six months had flown by, Mark thought, as he stood on the beach early one spring morning watching the sun come up. He filled his lungs with air, tasting the salt from the ocean spray on his lips. He still found it hard to believe that he had lost over twenty years of his, and Steve's life, and there was a part of him that resented that loss. Mark shrugged off the melancholy feeling that came always came over him when he thought too deeply about those years and decided that today, of all days, he should be looking forward and not back. For today was a special day in his life, a milestone as it were. It was his birthday. His 85th to be precise. His first real birthday in twenty years. During his time in Arizona Betty had insisted that he had a special day and between them they chose the day he had arrived in town. This, however, was different.  
  
Turning to walk back up the beach, still locked in his own thoughts, Mark failed to notice four pairs of eyes peering out through the windows at him. Inside the house, Steve called out, "Okay, he's on his way back. Places everyone." As he finished speaking all four made a mad dash for the kitchen, closing the door behind them just as Mark entered the lounge. Stepping through the double doors Mark came to a standstill, for in front of him was a trail of red ribbon . On the floor by the ribbon was a note that said "Roll me up and follow me wherever I may lead." Grinning Mark bent down, picked up the end of the ribbon and followed its trail, rolling it up as he went along. The ribbon took him all over the house and by the time he reached the kitchen door his arms were almost full to overflowing with presents. He pushed open the door and was greeted by a loud chorus of  
  
"Happy Birthday!"  
  
Placing his presents down on the floor in front of him, Mark stepped further into the kitchen and was pulled into what the kids had named their 'grandpa sandwich', a group hug with Mark at it's centre.  
  
Letting Mark go, Steve led him to the kitchen table where a wonderful birthday breakfast was awaiting him. Sitting down Mark looked around him and thought to himself how lucky he was.  
  
He had regained his memory, he still had his health, he was surrounded by his family and he'd never been happier.  
  
THE END 


End file.
